For Friends and France
by bearsrawesome
Summary: The Musketeers are escorting the King on one of his summertme hunting excursions when they are attacked. Will one meet a murky end? Whumpage ensues and the remaining Musketeers attempt a desperate rescue to save both their sovreign and their brother and royal connections will be made.
1. Chapter 1

**FOR FRIENDS AND FRANCE**

**Hi there strangers! So my last week of exams next week so I thought I'd celebrate a bit by posting this little one-shot! The second chapter of 'Brothers Beyond Blood' is half-done and I plan to finish sometime next weekend, although it's my birthday party so no promises! This fic is set a few months after the end of season 1 and so the four Musketeers have had some more contact with the King during their service. The end, well it was something I felt like doing since in the book (given to me by my best friend Anna for my birthday last Friday with the new cover and all the actors' beautiful faces on it!) d'Artagnan and the King are, in my mind, quite close much like Treville is in the BBC show. Plus I wanted to think about how a certain Musketeer would feel about the situation (no spoilers as to who though all you intelligent people can probably guess). Anyway, I'd appreciate a few words in the review since, well, I wrote it for you guys to see if you'd enjoy it-which I can't guess as I'm unfortunately not psychic. Either way, enjoy and have a great weekend!**

It was midday and the French sun was unbearably hot against d'Artagnan's skin as the troop rode steadily along the dusty path. He was just in front of the King, who was chattering jovially with Treville about the preparations for the oncoming royal baby, d'Artagnan's eyes keenly trained on the forest on the opposite side of the road.

It was a rather cold summer in Paris, with an inordinate amount of rainfall and almost constant stormy weather. Cooped up inside his cushy vacation palace, King Louis was practically climbing the walls in his infuriating boredom and as soon as the sun had emerged, ordered a 'marvellous' hunt to satisfy his needs. A group of Musketeers had been carefully chosen to escort His Majesty through the forest-ones with the most experience in horse riding and trekking-as the King had chosen a rather difficult path to satiate his longing to return to the outside world and subsequent hunting addiction.

The four best Musketeers in the regiment had, in fact, been invited by the King personally; with the humbling compliment that Louis trusted none more than Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan in protecting him as they did his dear queen. The four had graciously accepted-though when asked by the King it was rather more a summons that one could not refuse unless on one's deathbed-taking up the key positions closest to their Captain and their monarch to better defend him should the need arise.

Currently, the youngest of their number was marvelling at the pure heat of the sun; that left perspiration on his brow and stickiness on his clothes. Having grown up in Gascony, d'Artagnan was used to working in suffocating conditions on the fields, but usually he could have stripped to the barest of clothing to save himself from the overbearing humidity rather than sit quietly on his horse in full uniform.

D'Artagnan had developed an increasing jealousy for Aramis as he glanced over at the Spaniard who was walking on the other side of King Louis. Looking as calm and collected as ever, Aramis rode almost regally on his white steed; flamboyant hat shielding him from the harsh sunlight that beat down upon the party and the sight made d'Artagnan narrow his eyes at his friend and grit his teeth in anguish.

With a quick glance back, he spotted Athos behind him; expression more dark and brooding than usual though his face was slightly shaded by his scruffy hat with its ratty feather. Porthos' expression across from him was foul with his obvious discomfort in his thick leather and the younger Musketeer did not miss how his eyes drifted between Athos and Aramis' headwear with envy shining in his dark orbs.

The road before them was completely open-another factor that made Treville and the Cardinal uncomfortable with the trip, though His Majesty had assured the older man it was perfectly safe-a thick, forest banking upwards to the right, it's shade tantalisingly close. On their other side-much to d'Artagnan's chagrin, his side-was a steep hill that ran down into a wide river of deep blue water that flowed quickly through the valleys ahead.

There was no denying that the beaten path was beautiful; befitting of the majestic description which had been fed to both the King and his advisors but the perfection was, in d'Artagnan's eyes at least, it's fatal flaw. Perhaps it was paranoia, but the uncontested radiance of their surroundings seemed eerie and deceptive; the dulcet birdsong like a harpy tempting neglectful sailors to the rocks, the feathery breeze whispering the curses of the lost and forgotten souls, the luscious foliage reaching like winding fingers to choke careless travellers.

A branch snapped and d'Artagnan's heart twitched, gut twisting.

His mount stopped immediately under his trained hand as his eyes scanned the dense tree line for the danger he knew was there. D'Artagnan sat quietly for a moment, breathing in the sights and smells around him, his muscles tensed and ready, fingers straying to the musket at his waist.

"D'Artagnan?" A gruff voice asked quietly and d'Artagnan realised that the convoy had slowed just behind him, Treville and the King looking at him nervously.

Before he could answer, there was a flash of movement from the ground above them and he instinctively drew his weapon and moved forward to shield the King. Chaos erupted as two gunshots sounded simultaneously, sending the horses stamping fearfully as the Musketeers leapt into action.

Fortunately, Treville had managed to drag the King's horse round as a musket ball whizzed past and impacted with the ground at their feet. Athos' voice was heard above the clamour, organising and commanding in that certain, powerful way it always did as the bushes were trampled by the many armed men who emerged from their hideaways.

D'Artagnan, however, focussed his attention on the terrified young monarch who was being pushed back by Treville as men rushed forward from every angle to attack and the Captain drew his sword from its sheath to engage them. Seeing that the King had lost his main protector, Aramis and d'Artagnan closed around Louis as he struggled to control his panicked stallion, snorting and shifting in its hysteria.

The young Musketeer cut down another man as he came hurtling toward him with a fierce battle cry, only to see another bandit lining up a shot at the distracted King. No sooner had he seen him than Porthos, eyes alight with adrenaline and rage, came charging towards the man with inhuman speed and a savage growl. The man's finger twitched as Porthos knocked his hand aside, the bullet leaving the weapon and speeding into the King's horse-mere inches from the young man himself-and sending it staggering over.

D'Artagnan vaulted from his mount to aid Louis as the horse fell, jumping up and knocking the King aside-narrowly avoiding the dying animal's huge weight-and they went tumbling over the lip of the incline, almost on top of each other as they rolled violently down the hill.

The air was ripped from d'Artagnan's lungs as they bashed against the solid earth, sending twigs and dust up around the two. Flailing wildly, one hand dug into the jacket of France's sovereign, d'Artagnan caught onto a stray branch on a small tree and their weight almost wrenched his arm from his socket. The weak plant stood no chance against the strain of their combined weight and the two continued their rough journey down as d'Artagnan did his best to ease their descent until finally they smashed into the water below.

Immediately, the two battered bodies were dragged under the freezing, restless torrent; the water almost pitch black as the rain and mud from the storms turned the river into a hellish creature that tossed the two limpets like ragdolls. The swirling water was dizzying as the two were spun round and around, being thrown carelessly around in the benevolent power of the raging water. Desperately, lungs burning and heart hammering, d'Artagnan kicked out, miraculously finding the surface as they were hauled forward by the current.

D'Artagnan sucked in an urgent lungful of air, slightly relieved when there was an echo from the older man still held tightly against him; before he whipped his head around and caught sight of the natural path ahead of them. His hair plastered against his forehead, freezing water stinging his limbs and his soaked clothes that felt like leaden weights were nothing compared to the wriggling, terrified wreck of a King in his arms as the man grasped him with unspeakable strength in his horror and confusion.

Knowing he was unlikely to keep them afloat for long, d'Artagnan's wide eyes latched onto the long tree branches that overhung the edge of the waterway and frantically kicked himself in its direction, allowing the current to do the rest.

Freeing one arm, d'Artagnan caught onto the thickest branch he could, the flow of water crushing him against the bark and reminding him of his injuries from the fall. He was pushed under by the force, but frenziedly forced himself upwards again as he balanced his and the monarch's weight against the creaking branch.

The King relinquished his deadly grip on d'Artagnan's clothes to cling to the tree, long hair strewn across his grey face and eyes wide with terror as he spluttered and coughed. The bank was only a metre or so away and d'Artagnan's mind was preoccupied by the overwhelming urge get His Majesty to safety, forcing his feet downwards and planting them on the soft mud at the bottom.

The current almost swept him over again but d'Artagnan spat out another mouthful of the hateful, dirty water and wrapped his arm around the monarch; moving him steadily across the branch as Louis just followed the motions.

"I'll boost you up!" d'Artagnan just about yelled over the thundering roar of the water as it rushed around them "Hurry and do not let go!"

The King nodded mutely and scrambled across the branch, knuckles white as he fought to stay on the surface and move across. Finally, after what felt like minutes, he grabbed onto the grassy ledge and tried to drag himself up-an almost impossible feat given his exhaustion and the weight of the water-and d'Artagnan used his final burst of energy to raise the King out of the water and onto the safety grassy verge.

Louis climbed surprisingly quickly, his terror fuelling his body until he was safe from the malevolent pull and d'Artagnan watched him with an relieving sense of accomplishment. Finally, limbs shaking from the nerve rending strain, he slipped, the flow too much for his enfeebled body; vision greying as he was plunged back underwater again and lost to the blackness of a watery grave.

—-—-—-—-—-

Athos killed his opponent and turned just in time to see d'Artagnan tackle the King from his falling stallion and go disappearing over the edge of the road, vanishing from sight.

"No!"

The savage roar that escaped his throat was just as much a surprise to him as it was to those fighting around him but Athos had little thought or care for them as he sprinted over to empty space, sword cutting down any enemies that stood in his way with ease.

Porthos and Aramis, after hearing his cry, drew back to him; Aramis still mounted on his grey and fighting with stylised naturalness, with Treville, also on horseback, at his side.

Athos, knowing that the other three would defend him, dropped to his knees at the ridge; staring down at the rough terrain and the dust rising from the surface as a indistinguishable blur of cloak and leather dropped into the river below with an almighty splash. The river swallowed the two up in an instant, the ripples of their entry mixing with the curl of the water as it tore through the landscape.

"Athos!" Porthos called to him as he cut down another assailiant, their numbers now dwindled to almost nothing as the competent Musketeers finished the last of them off "What's 'appened?"

The large Musketeer stopped in his tracks at the reality "They didn't...d'Artagnan!"

Athos was too busy scanning the water to answer, heart thudding in his chest as he spotted d'Artagnan's head rearing from the water further downstream before he once again disappeared from sight.

"There! We have to move!" He ordered harshly, flying back up to his feet and charging down the road at full pelt, eyes half-trained on the water as it flowed alongside them.

There was a thundering of hooves and Athos glanced back to see Treville's pulchritudinous beast cantering beside him and Treville's bloodied hand extended "Get on!"

Without a moment's hesitation-such was Athos' trust in his Captain-Athos grabbed his superior's hand and swung expertly onto the horse with proficiency that only came with time, confidence and skill. Porthos and Aramis came clattering past in the moment it took for Athos to steady himself, the other two in a similar position to himself and Treville; but Aramis' eyes were trained on the water.

"I see them!" The Marksman cried, his adept eyes, more hawk than man, identified the two men floundering in the water "They're headed for the bank! Turn down here!"

Following Aramis' instructions, the Musketeers dipped down a more level embankment that ran into the foliage beside the river. The waterway turned before their makeshift pathway and Treville was forced to duck quickly around the dense thickets and brambles to follow. The reeds and shrubbery grew up around them and Athos felt his heart drop as Aramis called out from behind him.

"I lost them!"

Treville spurred the stallion beneath them quicker and the magnificent creature obliged with an inspirational burst of speed that allowed it to clear a line of tall, tangled undergrowth. A figure appeared ahead of them, long dark hair limp and wet as he clawed at the bank and leant over the edge of the water.

Athos was dismounted before Treville had even come to a full stop, hearing the others clatter down behind him "My King!"

King Louis turned, face a pallid colour and lips tinged a deep blue as he shook violently and struggled for words, pointing feebly toward the water's edge "H-he was r-right t-there! H-he s-saved m-me! I t-t-turned and h-he w-was..."

"Go! Aramis and I can look after His Majesty!" Treville compelled them, grey eyes wide with worry and expression grim.

Athos needed no further instruction as he and Porthos raced side by side around the corner. Eyes searching the surface, Athos desperately scanned for any sign of his protégé as he neatly dodged the foliage underfoot.

Porthos stuck out his arm and gestured wildly to the surface, voice full of panic "Athos, look!"

The older Musketeer caught sight of the Gascon's back, floating limply down the river just out of reach of the embankment, his body face down in the water. Still moving, Athos shed his jacket in preparation to dive in after him.

"No, Athos!" Porthos pleaded breathless as Athos' new spur of speed closed the distance "It's suicide!"

Ignoring the warning, Athos steeled a breath to prepare himself as he ran full pelt toward the ledge and jumped into the water. The blast of ice knocked the air from his lungs as though he had struck a wall but he surfaced, pure adrenaline and passion pushing him through the agony as he spotted the drifting Musketeer and seized him. Swimming furiously, Athos closed the short distance between him and the shoreline as they reached a flatter area of land where Porthos was already stretching across to grab them.

The large Musketeer's unbelievable strength lifted d'Artagnan from his weakened arms as Athos gasped for oxygen and clung to the grass, feeling the torrent of water powering through his clothes and burdening him further. No sooner had d'Artagnan been hoisted onto the grass did Porthos grip Athos' sopping shirt and wrench him from the cold as well, pulling the man up till he rested on the soft ground on his stomach and the two panted loudly at the exertion.

Shivers wracked Athos' body, the overwhelming sensation of cold and lasting panic sapping his strength as he lay there breathing heavily; only becoming aware when Aramis appeared from seemingly nowhere, dropping to his knees beside d'Artagnan and he began doing compressions on his chest, putting his warm lips to d'Artagnan's icy purple ones as he tried to breathe life into the young man again.

"Breathe, d'Artagnan..."

More pounding on the boy's still ribcage.

"Come on...don't give up on me now..."

More compressions. More nothing.

"We have spent..."

Another few puffs of air into his lungs.

"...too long training you..."

More breaths. Aramis sounded breathless as he begins another round of compressions.

"...for you to give up now..."

More pumping.

"...don't you dare die..."

More hurried breaths as Athos dragged himself to join the other two at their fallen comrade's side.

"...on us, little brother..."

Water surged past the boy's lips as he spluttered back to life with a wet choking sound and Porthos rolled d'Artagnan over as the boy coughed up an entire puddle of water from his lungs, gagging and groaning as Porthos rubbed his back and Aramis whispered soft encouragements. D'Artagnan reached out toward Athos and the older man obligingly held his hand as the younger man spat out the rest of the water and breathed rasping breaths that rattled deep in his chest. The older man squeezed his frozen fingers gently, patiently waiting till the young man had recovered.

"Are you alright, d'Artagnan?" Athos asked quietly, tightening his grip on the boy's hand as a steadying gesture "Can you speak?"

D'Artagnan shook his head slowly, pushing himself up and carefully leaning into Athos' chest as his body was seized by vicious quivering and the older man pressed the Gascon to his chest. Porthos and Aramis smiled with relief and delight as they all sat together on the grass, pressed together in a warm brotherly embraced and cherished the knowledge they were alive.

—-—-—-—-—- - - -

One week later and the four Musketeers were knelt in the grand hall of the palace, dressed in full uniform and each sporting a new gold medallion around their necks. D'Artagnan's arm was in a sling but otherwise, they had all emerged largely unscathed from the ordeal. King Louis-whose injuries were also easily remedied by Aramis' careful hand-was stood before them, dressed in regal attire, addressing the court behind them. They had already been publicly praised- along with the rest of the Garrison, much to the embarrassment of the Red Guards and the Cardinal- and awarded their medals before all of Paris; but the youthful monarch had insisted on a more private meeting with the four. Behind them, all the Lords and Ladies of the court had been assembled, the Queen-swollen belly visible through the bulge in her dress-was sat atop her throne and the Cardinal and Treville were stood on either side of the royal platform.

"I must thank you personally." The King began, voice sincere and eloquent "For without the four of you, I most certainly would have died. The Musketeers are indeed my most trusted servants and undeniably my most loyal, skilled and honest citizens for you uphold the laws of our country without fail."

He paused for a moment before continuing "And, although all of you proved your worthiness to France and to me, there is one of you I owe everything to."

He stopped before d'Artagnan and the young man looked up at the monarch with a barely concealed look of alarm.

"I knew when you I made you a Musketeer, d'Artagnan , that you would be a worthy and loyal one. But you have overcome even my expectations as your actions not only saved my life but all of France." King Louis smiled slightly, almost fondly as he took a breath "I was convinced I was to die in that river, but throughout it all you kept your head and saved my life, almost at the cost of your own; a choice that you would have been aware of when you pushed me onto the bank and to safety."

The other Musketeers were watching the King with fascination-along with the Captain, the Cardinal and most of the Court-although Queen Anne had a small approving smile on her face as she say patiently in her seat.

"That sacrifice, is not one many would make, however hard I would wish it. And giving you a medal, to me, would not fulfil my desire to show my gratitude." The audience watched in rapt amazement "For, d'Artagnan, I see you now, not only as a loyal servant but as a trusted friend."

There was audible gasp and as the King turned to look at Treville, d'Artagnan's gaze shot to the three beside him with a silent 'does this usually happen?' to which they all replied with a short, simultaneous shake of the head.

"Treville tells me you are from Lupiac in Gascony?" d'Artagnan nodded with a nervous flutter of his heart "Well, it seems that Gascony raises the bravest of men and the most trusted friends for its King. I believe that not all Lords are born with noble blood..."

D'Artagnan's eyes widened as the King unsheathed his ceremonial sword; the same one that made him a Musketeer.

"...As such, I wish to name you, Charles d'Artagnan." Louis smiled slightly as d'Artagnan ducked his head and the King touched his shoulders "Duke of Lupiac. Although the position is small, it will mean that your affairs can easily be taken of during your service and so your commission in the Musketeers remains unchanged."

D'Artagnan's jaw dropped open-along with everyone else's in the room, sans the Queen-and the King looked amused by the reaction "You may rise, my friend."

Obligingly, d'Artagnan climbed strangely smoothly to his feet-despite the numbness of shock in his body-and the crowd erupted into polite applause. Finally the noise calmed down as the King took his seat and the Queen instead took his place.

"I myself must thank you." Anne's voice was loud, clear and authoritative "For without you, my husband would not have returned to me, France would be without its King and my unborn babe would be without a father. I cannot thank you enough and I would be honoured if you would also do me the pleasure of calling you a friend."

D'Artagnan nodded succinctly and the Queen smiled sweetly before continuing.

"As you know, the heir to the throne is to be born in two months. After much discussion with my husband, we have decided that we wanted someone we knew we could rely on with unwavering certainty to protect our child." The Queen cleared her throat and the silence in the room was almost crushing as everyone lingered on her every word "A role, that would fall to the child's godfather."

The captivated audience gasped and d'Artagnan thought he was going to collapse in shock. He was being asked to become the godfather to the next King or Queen of France? After being declared a Duke?

"Of course," the Queen continued with a slight clearing of her throat to silence the hubbub of whispers "It is a lot to ask so suddenly-especially when we know so little about one another-but the King is single-minded in his decision to know you and he wholeheartedly believes that one as loyal and honest as you would be of benefit to France and therefore our child. Do you accept?"

D'Artagnan froze at the question, butterflies a whirlwind in his stomach "I would be beyond honoured, your Majesties."

"Then the matter is settled." The King clapped his hands together gleefully, almost over-excitedly "the Court is dismissed, though d'Artagnan, would you do the Queen and I the honour of joining us for the evening. After all, I am being entirely honest in my determination to get to know you."

"Uh..." d'Artagnan struggled for words as the other three Musketeers rose beside him and the other nobility began to leave the room, chatting wildly to one another in that outlandish way that suggested something almost scandalous "It would be my great pleasure, my King."

"Excellent!"

The Queen gave a pointed look at her husband before turning to face the other Musketeers and d'Artagnan did not miss the way her eyes lingered on Aramis"We will not withhold your friend from you too long; I understand you would most likely wish to discuss our...decision with d'Artagnan in earnest."

"Of course, of course!" The King chimed in behind her before turning to Treville "I hope you don't mind me borrowing one of your Musketeers either , do you Treville?"

"Not at all your Majesty. The Duke may do as he wishes for tonight." Was Treville's simple and neat reply and the King beckoned d'Artagnan along giddily.

Casting an almost aghast look back to the other three, d'Artagnan followed after the King as the man began an animated conversation with him and they disappeared into depths of the palace. Anne looked amused by the situation, her hand laid fondly across her stomach as she spun to face the Musketeers.

"My apologies for the King's behaviour but it seems d'Artagnan has become someone my husband truly trusts. I think he has wished to have a 'normal' friend to confide in for a while. And since he has such company, I have no doubt that he is worthy to be called the Godfather of my child."

And with a small curtsy, the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting swept from the room leaving the Musketeers alone with their thoughts. The silence was palpable, only broken by the swish of the Cardinal's cloak as he abruptly left as though in a dreamlike state and Treville's quick march from the room. Till at last, only the three Musketeers were stood before the empty thrones of the French monarchy.

Finally, Porthos turned to the others with a deep frown "Did that really just happen?"

"I...think it did." Aramis replied with a contemplative look.

Athos sighed, exasperated "Why do things always have to get so much more complicated?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya, sorry for the excessively long wait but I've had AS levels to worry about but I've had some free time (thank you, study periods!) and so I've finally gotten round to this epiloguey follow up thing. Please, please review x I'm actually really proud of this x**

After his invitation to become the royal baby's godfather, the King and Queen of France had become close-like siblings-to d'Artagnan; an idea he never would have thought possible for a simple Gascon farm boy.

In that short two months, Anne had requested the pleasure of his company every day at sunset, unless he was on mission. In the beginning, d'Artagnan had been nervous, uncertain; but, as the weeks turned to a month, then to two and the due date drew nearer till it loomed upon them, himself and Anne had become close friends and their long walks around the palace gardens had been a welcome escape from the hectic chaos of their responsibilities.

It was a time for honesty and advice; one especially for the Queen, whom has sought the same solace as her husband for a companion whose word was true and heartfelt. D'Artagnan took pleasure in spending time with Anne: he enjoyed sitting on the intricate metal bench with its silken cushions and listening to the beautiful woman beside him just open up like a budding spring flower, fresh with life and wonder and a wisdom and complexity one could never quite imagine.

Sometimes they talked about their childhoods, d'Artagnan's father and his life on their farm after his mother passed and Anne's beautiful palace in her dear Spain. Other times, they spoke of serious matters of State that plagued the Queen and those hard, painful missions that left men scarred, that conflicted with d'Artagnan's sense of honour and moral duty. Most of the time, they just talked till the sun was truly gone and the stars were like a thousand pinpricks of silver light. If they wished to speak about something, free themselves of a burden or worry, they did so freely and the other would hang on their every word.

In honesty, some of d'Artagnan's best memories were spent with Anne and their friendship was something the both of them cherished, about as much as d'Artagnan treasured his the brothers who he lived and fought beside day after day. But it was always sunset that was the peaceful reprieve from the stresses and horrors of the world and even in the bleakest of weather, the two would brave the elements-if only for a short time-to talk.

Of course, they had issues with the arrangement: Anne was heavily pregnant and her physicians wished her to avoid strenuous activity due to the chance of sickness whilst d'Artagnan would find himself whisked away on another important mission to protect the welfare of France. But they just worked around their issues and found another time to just gossip.

D'Artagnan had also grown close to the King and was now a trusted confidant in much the same way Anne was-though their discussions were rather less frequent given Louis' surprisingly gruelling political schedule and usually less in depth about their deeper issues-and d'Artagnan enjoyed his chess games with Louis. In fact, Louis had insisted that d'Artagnan teach him the secrets of fencing and swordsplay while The King shared his own knowledge of hunting in return and the two had lessons quite continually at rather odd intervals of free time.

It was late summer and d'Artagnan and Anne walked side by side through the maze of the palace gardens, enjoying their quiet time together. The sun was just teasing at the inky blue of the horizon, lighting the sky with the last traces of red and pink and orange that danced and swirled into odd colours on the canvas of the sky, setting the world aflame in a picture of burnt amber. If you squinted, you could just discern the stars just beginning to sparkle dimly as a navy sheet slowly pulled over the eastern hills, as though the world was tucking the people of France into bed.

All around them flowers grew in bright colours, their petals drifting lazily on the light breeze, splashed with a multicoloured hue of the sky. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of the ambrosial meadow and crushed blossom which seemed to waft up from the neat patches of grass whenever they strayed from the path.

The two companions had fallen into a contemplative silence, though d'Artagnan's contentment was disturbed by Anne's pained and distracted expression. He knew her well enough to see the signs that she was debating something with herself; though her hesitancy to ask him was unusual.

"Anne, is there something wrong?" He asked her gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder and taking careful note of the way her fingers were resting protectively over the large swelling of her stomach.

Anne seemed startled by the question and finally seemed I come to a decision "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" Her tone alone made d'Artagnan's heart clench with worry "Are you unwell?"

"Follow me...we must speak privately." The heavily pregnant queen have him no chance to respond as she grabbed his wrist and dragged him to an area out of sight of the palace.

It was a small alcove, almost invisible from the outside-like a secret garden-walled by thick green furs, a slightly uneven patio in the centre. There was an old table, made of wrought iron, flanked by two chairs and they stood like a tableau to a forgotten era.

"I've never been here before." D'Artagnan whispered scarcely as his eyes explored the small area.

"It is known to very few." The Queen supplied softly, taking a seat elegantly and gesturing for d'Artagnan to do the same "Here we can speak freely without fear of being overheard."

D'Artagnan frowned and followed her instruction, eyes searching hers for some clue as to her worry "This must be serious."

"You have become a trusted and meritorious friend over the last few months and I hold your opinion in the highest regard." Anne admitted carefully, her features making her seem conflicted "I have confided much in you- as you have placed our trust and secrets with me- and that is why I can no longer withhold the truth from you."

D'Artagnan was alarmed by her words "What are you talking about?"

"What I am about to tell you, must stay between us and only us. No one can know my secret, least of all the King."

"Stop with all this mystery, Anne and tell me. I will not betray you, you know that." D'Artagnan reached out and gripped her delicate hands in his and squeezed them reassuringly.

"I know..." Anne was trembling even under his comforting hand and her eyes were shining with unshed tears "But as soon as I tell you...if we were to be discovered...you could be executed along with..."

She stopped herself suddenly and shied away "Along with who, Anne?"

"Aramis." The Queen breathed in a fragile whisper, the words so quiet they were almost in audible above the soft, summer breeze."

"Aramis?" D'Artagnan could not hide his confusion and surprise as he tilted his head to meet Anne's eyes again "What has he got anything to do with this?"

Anne pulled her hands back, till they rested gently on her stomach, where her unborn child nestled safely inside her. The action sent a jolt through d'Artagnan's spine and knocked the air from his lungs in a sharp gasp as he reeled back from her.

"Anne..." the sound he made was strangled with shock, like a vice was crushing his windpipe "You didn't...?"

Seeing that he understood, glistening tears began to spill down her cheeks, making the sovereign look fragile and innocent. Never before had Anne shown such weakness in front of the young Gascon and he saw a new side to her that was entirely mysterious and, is he was honest, unsettling.

Reeling in the eruption of impulsive emotion he was prone to, d'Artagnan nodded his head and took a deep few breaths as he settled down into his seat.

"Okay...okay. When?"

"At the monastery." Anne brushed her tears away gently, looking down as she seemed to struggle to control herself "When the Cardinal tried to have me killed."

"How? Wait, stupid question...I do not need that talk again." d'Artagnan rubbed his temple hard though Anne seemed to appreciate the humour as she made a quiet, tearful chuckle.

"We were talking..." She began thoughtfully, wet eyes staring fondly into space as d'Artagnan watched the young woman reminisce "We-I...we shared the truth with each other...of our heartbreak, our past."

The Gascon nodded his head and murmured "The baby."

"He told me of a time before...before the Musketeers...a wife, a child. I can't-"

D'Artagnan smiled reassuringly and waved her flustered words away "It is not your story to tell. I understand."

"He was so kind...so understanding...it was my fault." Her confession was heartfelt, her guilt obvious in the tension of her shoulders and the way her hands pressed against her stomach "I just needed him...needed his love...from the one person on this earth who seemed to understand me."

She breathed deeply for a few tense seconds as d'Artagnan absorbed her words.

"It was foolish...of course, it was. And now both our lives-and that of our baby's-hangs in the balance."

"Anne...if the Cardinal were ever to find out about this...not even his attempt on your life could save you." d'Artagnan leaned forward, speaking to her in soft, hushed tones.

Anne turned her head sharply away to cover a sob, hand coming to rest across her mouth as she held back tears.

"I'm scared, d'Artagnan."

There was a painful sensation in d'Artgnan's chest and he reached across as her hand came down to meet his gratefully, open in invitation.

"I don't know what to do."

"Anne," the Musketeer's hand tightened around the smooth contours of the Queen's own in a gesture that was grounding to even the most distraught "Calm yourself. This will all be alright. You've said to me yourself: this baby is the best thing that has ever happened to you. I will not abandon you, nor my godchild."

"I could not keep the secret any longer, not from you." Anne gasped as her shoulders shook and her hands trembled with emotion.

D'Artagnan smiled gently at her "Thank you for trusting me. Does anyone else know?"

"Athos." She replied unsteadily, breathing more evenly as d'Artagnan's thumb rubbed soothing circles on her skin "He was there."

D'Artagnan shook his head at the information "Of course he knew. No wonder he and Aramis have been acting so strangely lately."

"I imagine it was the secret you and Porthos believed them to be hiding."

"Most likely." The Gascon agreed reflecting on his numerous conversations on the subject with both Porthos and Anne "How do you feel about it?"

"I trust Aramis...and Athos. If he wished to report of my adultery he would have done so by now." She smiled faintly and d'Artagnan could not deny the slight relief the reaction gave him "Besides, they are your dearest friends and I have heard enough from you to know they are honourable and loyal men who would most certainly give their lives for one another."

"I'm certain they'd be glad to hear of your faith in them."

Although d'Artagnan was shocked, he knew now was not the time to worry with it and allow it to toil with his emotions. Anne needed him. She needed to be reassured. She needed to know he was there for her. She needed to relieve herself of this crushing secret that threatened to bury her alive.

"I'm not regretful of what I did." Anne confessed, sounding bolder and stronger than before as she met his eye with her piercing gaze "I do love my unborn child and I have every belief he will be as strong and brave as his father. A great King."

"Don't let Aramis hear you say that; his ego doesn't need another boost." d'Artagnan said kindly before saying in a more serious "Though I agree. Aramis is a great man, if your son inherits his nature then he will be a very blessed, indeed."

Anne laughed, not loudly, but a genuine one the same "How are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Being so calm. Making jokes yet still being serious."

D'Artagnan thought on his next words carefully "What would be the point in losing my temper? This has already happened, Anne, there's nothing I can do to change that."

"Still..." She mumbled uncertainly, rather unlike her usual powerful nature "I expected...anger, incredulity, surprise. You act like you've know for months."

He thought carefully for a moment "Perhaps I have..."

Anne apparently knew not to push further, seeing that d'Artagnan was rather uncertain about the statement before taking a quick sobering breath. The noise pulled him from his abstract thoughts and d'Artagnan straightened uncomfortably in his seat.

"You do realise we may still be caught."

Her eyes widened at the choice of pronoun before she covered her surprise with a nod "Yes."

"I mean, no offence to Louis or anything, but he isn't the most attractive man in France." D'Artagnan sighed deeply and leant back in his seat in an oddly relaxed posture considering their situation "Theres a reason why so many women sleep with Aram-"

The Queen coughed lightly to interrupt and his eyes sparkled as he winced.

"Sorry."

"I didn't sleep with him for his looks."

He raised an eyebrow doubtfully

"They did play a part though."

Rather artfully, he dodged the fiery glare Anne threw his way and continued.

"Aramis is good-looking...like ridiculously, painfully good-looking. The worst thing about him is probably that he knows it. He turns wooing into an art form..." D'Artagnan flushed in mortification at what he was saying before abruptly moving on as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat "Anyway, I think people would notice the difference. Aramis has a rather dark skin tone to Louis, plus you can't really deny those curly brown locks."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Anne couldn't help but tease, feeling calmer than she had in months as a small smirk spread across her delicate lips.

"No!" D'Artagnan pulled an undignified face "Don't even joke about that! He's like my brother, we spend every day together. Plus, you are the one who...you know..."

Anne's look was deadly "Just say it...I dare you."

"Alright, alright, I'll stop!" D'Artagnan acquiesced quickly, unwilling to face her wrath "But my point still stands."

The pregnant woman rolled her eyes at his playful antics before becoming serious and seeing her mood reflect upon him immediately.

"What do I do, d'Artagnan? If the baby...if someone can tell..."

D'Artagnan leaned forward with a reassuring smile "We'll plan for it, Anne. I'll make sure you and the baby make it out of France...whatever the cost."

"I cannot ask so much of you!"

"You're not," d'Artagnan chuckled softly, eyes alight with determination and fondness "I am the baby's godfather and it's father is like a brother to me."

"But your life here! Constance, the Musketeers, even Louis! If anyone found out you could lose everything-"

"It's a risk I am willing to take." D'Artagnan's interruption was calm and collected, but his tone was filled with sincerity.

They sat in blissful silence for a few still moments, content in each other's company, words and emotions satiably bared. Finally d'Artagnan turned to Anne.

"I just have one question."

The Queen automatically sat straighter to show her willingness "Ask whatever you please."

"When you said Athos knew..."

"Yes...?"

"Well, you specifically said he was there. He wasn't *there* there, was he?"

"D'Artagnan!" Anne shrieked scandalised and batted his arm hard so that he pulled away laughing "What in the lord's name is wrong with you?! No! Of course not!"

They young man seemed to have stopped listening, leaning back in his chair in fits of laughter-so far that it tipped and he almost fell off, which only made him laugh harder-arms around his stomach as his body shook and tears trickled from the corner of his eyes.

Eventually Anne could fight the urge no longer, giggling slightly less unabashedly as her annoyance swayed to amusement at her friend's reaction.

"O-okay!" D'Artgnan wiped away the tears breathlessly as he forcibly stopped laughing "O-okay, now m-my tummy hurts...I-I think I'm done...that was just..."

He burst into some hysterical giggles again. Anne rolled her eyes exasperatedly and clucked her tongue.

"I don't think it would be particularly impressive if one of the King's Musketeers died of laughter."

D'Artagnan's eyes were sparkling with merriment "I'm s-sorry. I couldn't help myself,

Annie."

"Don't call me that!" She scowled "I am still the Queen of France you know. I could have you public ally flogged."

D'Artagnan grinned "I love you too, Annie."

Anne sighed and shook her head in fond irritation, placing her head in her hands.

"Will you ever change?"

"Nah," d'Artagnan replied easily, sitting back to prop his feet on the table "I'm your annoying kid brother, it's my job to make your life a living misery. I do the same thing to Athos and Porthos...less 'Mis, we usually team up to make double the trouble but you already about Aramis' skill-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"I was just going to say you know how much he likes to cause trouble! Get your head out of the gutter, Anne, you are the Queen of France after all."

"Don't be cheeky." She reprimanded lightly, struggling to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upwards.

D'Artagnan smiled wolfishly "But it's one of my many charms."

Anne sighed once more-all too aware of how much she had done so in the last couple of minutes-and looked up into the shadowy canopy above them to see the faint twinkling of stars in the darkening sky.

"We should go, my doctors will be getting worried."

D'Artagnan nodded in agreement, moving round as she stood and he pulled her chair back so she could step away. He did a low, patronisingly exaggerated bow with a boyish smirk plastered on his face before offering his arm.

"Will you walk with me, milady?"Anne only raised an unimpressed eyebrow before sliding her arm into the crook of his elbow as they began a leisurely pace back through the gardens.

"How can you just worm your way into everyone's hearts?"

D'Artagnan looked at her sharply before he shrugged nonchalantly"It's a gift. Pure adorable-ness."

"If only trouble seemed to think so."

"Yes, well I can't be perfect."

Anne smiled despite herself before sobering, eyes watching the paved stones beneath their feet as she squeezed her arm so he was pulled closer for a moment.

"Thank you, Charlie. For everything. I don't think I could've gotten through the last couple of months without you."

A smile ghosted d'Artagnan's lips as his head dipped for a moment before rising to the horizon where the sun had just dipped below the dark line "I'm here for you, Anne. We're family. Always will be."

"Thank you, little brother."

"My pleasure, Annie."

"I told you not to call me that."


End file.
